


I'm just trying on trouble to see if it suits me

by UnchartedHemispheres



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnchartedHemispheres/pseuds/UnchartedHemispheres
Summary: Julia unexpectedly runs into David after not having seen him for weeks. She makes a surprising discovery.Takes place after the fish and chips night in episode two.Super late entry for the Lockdown challenge, using the prompt "Stop looking at me like this."
Relationships: David Budd & Julia Montague, David Budd/Julia Montague
Comments: 40
Kudos: 154
Collections: In Lockdown With Keeley





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a lovely friend who's been incredibly enthusiastic and encouraging about my writing, and who's been insanely patient for the two whole months it took me to write this (I am slow). You know who you are, thank you! <3
> 
> I've had to split this into two chapters as it was too long on it's own, but it was meant to be a one shot and is meant for reading in one sitting.

It was strange to see the hallway outside her office so empty. She’d just lifted her head for one of her regular, customary checks to make sure nothing was amiss - and had immediately done a double take when she noticed that there was, for once, no lone figure standing against the opposite wall, surveying the scenery.

It took her a second to remember that Kim had been called off to some sort of urgent meeting at RASP, and Julia was, very unusually, on her own. It wasn’t quite within the guidelines, but there hadn’t been time to call in a backup and it was only for an hour or two. As a result, she was now stuck at the home office for the duration of Kim’s absence, under strict instructions to only leave her protective glass walls when absolutely necessary.

She couldn’t imagine there was any danger to her inside the home office building (with the exception of disgruntled former employees, she thought with an eye roll, remembering Chanel’s recent public meltdown), but she appreciated how serious her security team took their jobs regardless. 

She’d changed her upcoming 2pm meeting at number ten to a video call instead, but then found, while prepping for it, that the big screen in her office refused to turn on. The bumbling guy she called up from IT could not fix it on the spot, so she ended up having to move the meeting to her permanent secretary’s office, who was also attending and who’s video equipment seemed to be intact.

After this whole series of unfortunate events, Julia was rather hoping for a smooth second half of the day, and decided to make her way to her colleague’s office early (just in case) after a quick trip to the loo.

It was nice to be able to go into a bathroom without someone announcing her presence and ordering everyone else to leave the room. She smiled at the startled looking young woman who was adjusting her hair in the mirror (Laura? From Passports?) before disappearing into one of the cubicles.

When it was her turn in front of the mirror, she checked her lipstick (slightly smudged after lunch, but easily fixed), her hair and the state of her outfit, tugging her blazer back into place before turning around and giving herself a complete once-over. She’d learned over the years that men found it easier to accept a woman in power who looked as immaculate and poised as possible. A single perceived “flaw” - a lack of make up, a hair out of place, a barely visible stain on her shirt - and men would look at her with disdain, take her less seriously, resist her orders or ignore her opinions. She hated it - she was no less smart or skilled when in her pyjamas at night. However, her tentative plans for the next couple months left no room for any missteps, so she had to be particularly diligent and careful for the foreseeable future where her appearance was concerned. Julia sighed at the mirror, gave her own reflection an ironic nod of approval and then left the bathroom, heading for her permanent secretary’s office. 

The floor was bustling with activity, her employees busy processing the imminent arrival of several dozen refugees coming in from a syrian camp. She caught glimpses of passport photos, flight itineraries and asylum requests as she passed by desk after desk. Julia turned the corner into another area with a row of glass-fronted offices, expecting to see it largely empty, but was surprised to see that this was not the case.

This hallway _did_ have a lone, still figure in it - immediately recognizable by the rigid, wide legged stance, the dark, crisp suit and the carefully clasped hands. It was such a familiar sight, she experienced a strong sense of deja-vu and found herself transported back a few weeks, to a time when the sight of this same lone figure was an everyday occurrence in her life.

Even though the man at the far end of the corridor had not moved his head or given any indication that he’d noticed her presence, she knew she’d already been spotted, identified and assessed. It was a strange situation - she was used to seeing him subtly scan his surroundings for anything out of the ordinary - but she was not used to being on the other side of the equation: Being treated as a possible threat, a potential intruder that he was tasked to protect his new principal from.

She hesitated, used a glance at her phone as an excuse to slow down, but she could hardly turn around and walk away to avoid what might be a slightly uncomfortable encounter with her former PPO. The sound of her heels meeting the floor seemed overly, almost obscenely loud in this setting, a noise that she normally loved to use to announce her impending presence. Now all she was announcing was her own hesitation, her slight indecision, as the audible breaks between clicks grew larger the more she slowed down. He’d probably noticed, was likely drawing conclusions from it - conclusions that she could not allow him to come to. _Shit_ , she thought, and picked up the pace, carefully placed one foot in front of the other and proceeded towards the man at the end of the hallway - a man she’d last seen sitting across from her on the second sofa in her lounge. 

He looked the same as he’d had that day, wearing a similar, non descriptive dark suit over a crisp white shirt, hair neatly teased into place, the outline of his weapon just visible against his hip. The only difference: He was no longer standing outside _her_ office, was no longer following _her_ around, was no longer watching _her_ every move. For a few weeks, he’d been _her_ silent shadow - now he was someone else’s. She’d heard he’d been reassigned to the housing minister and assumed that this must be the reason for his unexpected presence in the building. 

“Sergeant Budd,” Julia said as she came to a stop next to the officer, the sound of her heels finally ceasing. Budd greeted her with the smallest of nods, barely meeting the requirements of basic politeness - he never averted his eyes from his new principal behind the glass walls across from him. The usual expression of indifference he wore while working made it impossible to judge if he was pleased or pissed off to see her - she was fairly certain it was the latter though. 

Mark, her permanent secretary, and the housing minister were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated debate - and Julia was fairly certain what it was about. The home office had been getting push back from multiple councils with available social housing that they’d assigned refugees to. To sort out this situation, Julia had asked Mark to call in the housing minister and put some pressure on him to intervene. As she was slightly early for her meeting, she had no choice but to wait outside until they were finished.

They seemed nowhere near an ending, so she was going to have to settle in for a while and just deal with the situation at hand. Surely she could survive a few minutes in the presence of her surly, stoic ex- bodyguard. Julia pulled out her phone, attempted to answer a few emails, but this only proved a distraction for a minute or two. It was surprisingly hard to concentrate on RIPA 18 updates with Budd right next to her. 

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, a still, motionless statue, his position defensive and hostile. Every now and then he’d move his head to scan the hallway, doing a 180 degree sweep of his entire surroundings, ignoring her completely when his eyes moved past her. She was not entirely surprised at his reaction, after what she’d done - but he still had a job and seemed to be doing just fine, so she found his ire off-putting. Considering his new position, he’d obviously not suffered any ill effects from her actions, had not been demoted or taken off the team protecting cabinet members.

It was eerily quiet in the hallway, the buzz of the main floor barely audible in the distance, the two men in the office across actors in a silent movie, gesturing with no sound, protected by the glass walls. The only noise in the corridor was the sound of her own breathing, the rustling of her clothes every time she changed her position slightly, and the beating of her heart - although she was possibly only imagining that last one.

Somehow, David Budd was making no sound. Of course, he’d had years to perfect the art of becoming a still statue, but she’d never recognized before just how _good_ he was at it. She wasn’t even sure that he was _breathing_ \- he’d all but become a part of this hallway, a static piece of furniture that nobody spared a second glance. And he was still refusing to engage with her, to even look at her or acknowledge her presence beyond that initial nod. It did leave her wondering - perhaps she _had_ done some damage there. Perhaps her actions had derailed his career path, had left a mark on his file, had marred his reputation with his superior or his fellow officers. Perhaps she hadn’t acted _entirely_ reasonable.

She debated if she should at least make an attempt at having a conversation with this man, who was so intent on not interacting with her. The longer she stood there, watching her colleagues argue behind the protective glass wall, the less sure she became on what to do. The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly - he must be used to it, was probably entirely unbothered - but she thought it awkward, intensely uncomfortable.

“I owe you an explanation,” she finally found herself saying.

She _didn’t_ , actually. It was perfectly within her rights to have her security team adjusted to her preferences, without any explanation needed. 

Budd showed no reaction to that and gave no response. No questioning glance, not even a nod of his head.

She continued on despite his silence. “I did not mean for you to be reassigned so quickly, I was expecting you to stay with me for a few more days after I made the call. I would have explained.”

Still no response, but she ploughed on regardless. “You were doing a great job, but I felt you would be better placed with someone with a less demanding schedule than mine.” 

He did react now, a small frown on his face. “I had no issues with your schedule,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“It seemed to me that you weren’t able to spend enough time with your children while working with me, so I thought it best to have you moved elsewhere.” 

The frown on his face deepened, then he shook his head ever so slightly and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Excuses” to her ears.

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“I never gave any indication that I was unhappy with your working hours.” His tone was flat, but she could detect the slight aggression beneath it. He _was_ angry. 

“I’m sorry, I must have gotten the wrong impression,” she tried to placate him.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice not increasing in volume, but in urgency and underlying hostility. “Why did you really have me reassigned?”

“I told you, so you could spend more time with your children.” She matched his tone, upped her own level of agitation, irritated by his blatant disregard of her position, her authority. Irked that he dared to speak to her this way.

“That’s _crap_. You knew I only had my kids on weekends.” 

He was starting to really piss her off now. This was David Budd without a filter, a version of him she hadn’t expected or experienced before - a version of him that seemed to want an argument, was trying to provoke her, trying to get a reaction out of her.

“I must have misunderstood,” she replied, barely able to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“Sure,” he said, clearly equally as irritated, “I’m not buying it.” 

She risked a glance at him - he remained focused on his principal, but she could see the muscles of his jaw clenching, his slightly narrowed eyes, the stricter set of his shoulders. 

Julia took a deep breath, tried to focus, push her own anger aside, ignore his provocations. She regretted ever opening her mouth - she had no idea why he simply refused to believe her or what he was expecting her answer to be. They were standing side by side, both staring straight ahead, refusing to look at each other, speaking in low, hissed voices. To anyone watching, they must appear to be co-conspirators having a quarrel about some sort of plan gone terribly wrong. Julia quickly glanced to both sides and was relieved to see that the hallway was still as empty as it had been a few minutes earlier. This could change at any point though - _would_ certainly change if their quiet exchange turned into a full blown, loud argument. She needed to focus on de-escalation - she’d made the horrible mistake of choosing this sensitive location for their conversation, now it was on her to prevent a blow up in public. She was not going to get drawn into whatever he wanted this to be, was not going to have a personal altercation with a police officer at her place of work. If they’d been in private, she’d have had no issues raising her voice and putting him in his place - although perhaps she could at least issue a slight rebuke there, to get him to relent.

“Sergeant Budd, I think it is high time you remembered who you are speaking to,” she started out, her voice hard. Then softer: “I’m sorry if I misinterpreted the situation, but I was only trying to help.” _There_. That was apologetic enough without admitting to any wrong-doing. 

He scoffed, and she couldn’t be quite sure, but it seemed he was rolling his eyes. “I know exactly who I’m talking to. What did you tell Craddock?”

 _Deescalate._ _Remain professional_ _,_ she reminded herself. “Exactly what I just told you. That I was happy with your work but thought you would benefit from a lighter schedule.”

“Bullshit _,_ again.”

“ _Stop it_ _,_ ” she hissed, a clear warning in her voice that usually everyone around her heeded. Budd seemed unimpressed with it.

“Stop bullshitting me, then!” he rumbled back at her, still observing his principal.

“How _dare_ you -” she started out, but didn’t get very far.

“Just tell me the bloody truth already!” he growled.

“FINE,” she snapped, “I had you reassigned because you were distracting me!”

The silence that followed this statement was deafening - far worse than the one they’d started out with. His head whipped around and he was now, finally, looking straight at her. The indifferent mask on his face had dropped in favour of open surprise, of shock, his mouth half open and his eyes searching for hers, searching for confirmation.

It told her that this was neither the answer he’d been expecting nor the one he’d been trying to coax out of her. Perhaps he’d only been looking to validate his own perception of her, perhaps he’d expected her to say that she didn’t appreciate having a member of her security team with opposing political views. Perhaps he’d expected her to name a completely different reason - he’d certainly not expected this particular kind of admission.

Julia couldn’t believe she’d let him get under her skin, couldn’t believe he’d actually weasled the truth out of her this easily. She was able to withstand questions designed to unsettle her, to catch her out, by Westminster’s most experienced politicians - but she couldn’t successfully deflect a simple question asked by her former PPO?

And now she’d actually admitted, out loud, in the middle of her workplace, _in public_ , her own attraction to him. She met his eyes only briefly, quickly looking away, far too embarrassed and angry at herself - and at him, for managing to hit all the right buttons.

They’d been sitting across from each other in her lounge and she’d enjoyed it a little too much. His company, his laughter, the way he sipped his tea...he’d talked about his children and she’d been enchanted by the joy in his voice that she hadn’t thought him capable of. The conversation had turned to other matters and she’d found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what it would feel like between her legs. Had allowed herself to imagine, just for a second, the feeling of his tongue against the inside of her thigh. Had thought of it travelling upwards. Then _inwards_. That was the moment she’d realised that she was headed for disaster, that her PPO, as friendly as he was, was turning into a potential problem. A problem she would not mind having, but could not afford to. She’d changed the topic to some political matter that she knew they’d disagree on, and within a few minutes the mood had shifted back to barely concealed hostility. She’d made excuses, complimented him out of her flat and had called Lorraine Craddock early the next morning. 

She hadn’t seen him for weeks after, and as soon as she was standing next to him, she’d somehow felt the need to explain herself to him - and in the process had shared more information than she’d planned on, information of a far too sensitive nature. And now she was stuck - she could hardly walk off and abandon her conference call with the prime minister. She’d already missed an important meeting at number ten due to the reshuffle in her security team - there’d been a hiccup in the schedule a few days after David’s departure that had led to her being unable to get to number ten in time. If there was one thing Vosler hated more than video calls, it was unplanned absences.

Julia was too mortified to even attempt looking at David, and instead focused on the two men across the hallway, desperately wishing for their meeting to end so she could remove herself from the situation at hand and hopefully forget it ever happened. Forget that she’d temporarily lost her senses. 

David was standing next to her, seemingly at a loss for words - he hadn’t said anything at all since her outburst, had no response now after minutes of needling her with endless questions. She could hardly blame him - her admission must have been an unexpected turn of events. Perhaps he was trying not to laugh, confronted with the fact that a woman ten years his senior, someone he’d never even look at twice, found him so distracting she’d removed him from her security detail. She closed her eyes in mortification, imagining a world in which she’d just kept her mouth shut, a world in which they were still standing side by side without ever having exchanged a word, a world in which she hadn’t embarrassed herself beyond relief.

“You should ask for me back.” the man next to her finally said quietly - so quietly she immediately assumed she’d misheard him.

“I’m sorry?” she blurted out as her eyes popped back open in surprise and she moved to look at him in confusion. David glanced to the left, then right, searching for any possible intruders, checked on the two men in the office across from him - then finally turned to her. “Ask for me back.” he said again, and then his gaze found hers ... and held it.

And _held_ it.

She’d never noticed _how_ blue his eyes were - somewhere between the colour of the sky on a sunny day and the deep turquoise of a carribean sea. She was helpless against them, unable to look away as the white walls and the glass partitions and her colleagues all faded into the distant background. As those eyes bored into hers, trying to look into her, trying to look through her. It was David who broke their connection, his gaze slowly dropping to her mouth. He lingered there, too - for far longer than reasonably appropriate, so long that she found herself swallowing and couldn’t help biting the inside of her lower lip.

He smiled briefly, a barely detectable movement of his mouth, and moved on to her collarbone, slowly and deliberately. 

_This is where I’d start_ _,_ his eyes said _._

Her chest was next. _Then I’d touch you here._

Waist. _And here_ _._

Hips. _Let my hands wander down here._

It was unmistakable. His gaze travelled down the entire length of her body, purposefully, admiring, lingering in places. Between her legs. On her thighs. On her ankles. She could almost feel his touch on her skin, slowly descending her body, following the same path his gaze was taking. She briefly glanced at his hands, clasped in front of him, wondering what those would feel like. They looked big. They looked _capable_. They’d probably feel very nice. When David reached her feet, he tilted his head back up, looked straight into her eyes for a few seconds and then returned to scanning the hallway for dangers, the impassive mask back on his face.

 _Ask for me back_ , he’d said. _Ask for me back, and I’ll make it worth your while_ _,_ his eyes had said. Julia was stunned at this unexpected turn of events. She’d never been propositioned quite as openly as that - and he hadn’t even verbalized what he was suggesting. And yet she was out of breath, her heart beating at a far higher rate than normal, her mouth feeling dry - all because he’d _looked_ at her. She was used to unwanted male attention - leering stares by some of her older colleagues, wandering eyes, Rob’s desperate but unwelcome advances. But this was a different kind of attention, of a different quality. His gaze was not inappropriate or demanding, but appreciative and promising, _offering_. An offer that was entirely up to her to accept - or reject. 

The image of his tongue against the inside of her thigh re-entered her mind, a seemingly deluded hallucination a few weeks ago - now fully within the realm of possibilities, apparently. _Oh,_ her body went, a delayed realization of what was happening. _Oh_ _,_ she went, as her mind extrapolated and she started daydreaming of various other scenarios that involved her naked self and a very naked David Budd. 

A sudden movement from one of the men behind the glass wall brought her back down to earth, let her remember who she was, and where she was. Made her realise that the man next to her was waiting for an answer - and she knew what that answer had to be, the only one it could be.

“No.” she finally managed to get out, appalled at how breathless she sounded. There was absolutely no way she could have him on her security detail again. She’d be too distracted, she’d be unable to work. And if she accepted his _offer_ while he was working for her, all hell would likely break loose.

David continued looking straight ahead, focusing on the two men across the hall, but gave a tiny nod of acceptance. Silence stretched, once again.

“Dinner, then?” he said quietly, after a while. She ducked her head to hide the smile that she couldn’t quite suppress. Images of the two of them having a meal at an upscale London restaurant flooded her brain - impossible. Absolutely impossible.

Julia shook her head, then said it out loud. “No,” to this second offer, too.

He nodded again, but she could see his mouth firm up, his stance harden, his body closing off. She’d rejected him twice now, and she could just leave it at that, go into her meeting, forget about him until the next time they ran into each other. But there was the memory of his smile, sitting across from her, when he’d handed her a steaming cup of tea. His mouth moving, talking, laughing. His eyes admiring the entire length of her body so intensely, just now. 

Julia shifted uneasily, checking that nobody was watching them. She felt the words rise up, fought down every instinct to hold them back, ignored the half of her brain that was screaming at her to keep her mouth shut and put an end to this madness.

“I think you should come by the flat.” 

There it was. She’d put it out there, had actually said it. 

She could feel him freeze and look at her in surprise, apparently forgetting about his surroundings, forgetting about his job. Julia waited a brief moment, took a deep breath, and then returned his gesture from earlier. Met his eyes, lost herself a little in the blue of them, imagined them staring at her naked body. Then focused on his lips. Thought of what those would feel like against her skin. Let her gaze travel downwards, past the bulk of his chest under the safety vest. Let her eyes linger on his clasped hands, let herself imagine what laid underneath. Felt her own lips part a little, her mouth going dry just at the thought of it. With some effort, she tore her eyes away and proceeded down his legs, thinking of how muscular they must be, judging by the arms she’d already had the pleasure of seeing. Lingered on his feet, imagined them firmly planted on the floor of her bedroom, as he was pressing her against the wall. Shuddered a little, just thinking about it. David was moving too, seemingly unable to hold still under her gaze, shifting his body slightly into a more comfortable position. When she finally tilted her head back up, she confidently met his eyes for a few seconds, a small confirmation of her intentions, then turned away, focusing on the white wall beside her. 

He cleared this throat, readjusted his stance, did another quick scan of the hallway. But didn’t say anything for a long while. It wasn’t just any old invitation - she wasn’t inviting him round for a curry or a cup of tea - she’d pretty much explicitly invited him into her bed. Had invited him to do all the many things he’d suggested doing to her with his eyes earlier. She felt reckless and lightheaded, slightly mad.

“When?” he finally came back to her. The relief was so overwhelming, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. Relief and excitement. And fear, incredulity at her own foolishness. 

“Tonight?” she said to the white wall.

Another pause.

“All right.”

She turned to him to sort out the logistics, but spotted movement out of the corner of her eye - her two colleagues had finally finished their meeting and were gathering up documents, were going to notice her any second now.

“Use the backdoor,” she said to David, mindful that she had to be quick.

He stiffened next to her, and it took her a moment to understand why. Her eyes widened when she realised her own meaning, how easily it could be misunderstood.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, her cheeks flaming.

“Of course,” he responded, but the corners of his mouth tilted up into the barest hint of a smirk. 

David stepped away from her as the door opened and waited respectfully until Mark and the housing minister had done their customary handshake, then started following his principal down the hallway.

At last, Julia entered Mark’s office, lifting her head to catch one final glimpse of her former PPO. David had just turned around while walking away and threw her a look full of such hunger and promise, a look so intense that she felt her breath hitch slightly and a small shockwave of arousal between her legs. 

Who would have thought that showing up to a meeting ten minutes early would result in _this_.


	2. Chapter 2

Julia knew herself. She knew she’d invited him over immediately so she wouldn’t have time to reconsider and come to her senses. Knew that, given a few days' time, the thrill of his attention, of his obvious interest, would fade into the background beneath all the many reasons why she should not be doing this.

Already, after only a few hours, she was feeling slight regret and indecision and didn't quite know how to proceed. She spent the car ride home staring at his name on her phone, debating if she should call or text to retract her invitation. 

Beyond the obvious issues around their professional connection, there were also personal considerations: She certainly didn’t make a habit out of inviting men over for the sole purpose of sleeping with them. She barely knew David Budd, had only spent a few weeks with him, had had a few polite conversations with him - and one unwise, more personal evening filled with fish and chips and conversation. 

The Julia of a few months ago, of a year ago, would have never entertained the idea of David Budd in her bed. She’d have dressed him down in the hallway, rejected him, and moved on with her day - would probably have forgotten about his offer by the end of the week. She’d never have invited him over for dinner in the first place. 

Her world had been changing, _she_ had been changing, but she wasn’t quite ready yet to openly admit to it. 

She’d always made a point of conducting herself with integrity, and had gotten to where she was through hard work and dedication - not through connections, doing favours or cozying up to the “right” people. She’d outright refused to use her parents’ name to advance her career. 

However, many of her peers did not share her attitude and work ethic. They’d wanted the government job for the cushy salary, the power and the influence. Many of them were Vosler’s old Oxford buddies, had gotten their positions through their relationship with him. They were not spending their nights poring over reports and worrying over budgets. They were not spending their days in endless meetings, trying to move bills through parliament. They were figureheads for their departments, doing the bare minimum - but taking all the credit. 

Julia had done her best to stay out of their power games, had not scrabbled for Vosler’s attention, but had quietly and effectively run her department herself and become an integral part of the current government. She knew she was doing a great job, and she was sure that everyone else knew it as well - she’d heard enough to know people were impressed. 

When Vosler, who’d let it be known he was not going to stand for another term, made it clear to her that he wasn’t even considering supporting her as a potential successor, she’d been shocked and dismayed. The people, the _men_ that he was considering, were all fellow ministers who were phoning it in - all of them old “mates” of Vosler’s from university.

She was outraged that her hard work, her achievements for this government, her open and public support seemingly counted for nothing. After two years of observing it in person, she was appalled by the good old boy’s club that had developed around the PM. Disillusioned by seeing how ineffective the government had become and how many of her peers did not care about doing the right thing for the country - only the right thing for themselves. None of the potential candidates for prime minister were qualified to run the country - but they’d cozied up to Vosler.

Julia wanted to change things. She wanted to do better. She knew she _could_ do better. She’d had her eye on number ten for years, had known for a long time that eventually she was going to try for it, had thought she was well on her way there. But without Vosler’s support she stood little chance of actually making it there. 

If she wanted to affect real change, if she wanted a shot at the big job, she was going to have to make a play for it herself. She was going to have to step up, step out of Vosler’s shadow and _speak up_. And she was going to have to get her hands a little dirty, take risks. Was going to have to give up on at least some of her morals and engage with Westminster’s conservative elite, make them _want_ her.

Julia didn’t make a conscious decision for months - only took small, hesitant steps every now and then, never passing the point of no return. She started talking to fellow MPs, doing little favours here and there, helping out where she could. Responded positively to interview requests by The Economist, then by The Times, including a photoshoot - all opportunities she’d have never agreed to before. She became more visible. Became _louder_.

RIPA 18 had been in its earliest stages, a watered down version of the bill at the behest of the prime minister. She rewrote the bill, beefed it up until it more closely matched her original vision for it, and presented the updated version to parliament. Since Vosler had already publicly given his support, he was unable to withdraw it subsequently. Her first semi-public upset against the prime minister, a risk that paid off when multiple conservative MPs from all over the country publicly backed her.

All of it felt alien to her, a different planet, the black and white of her world, so carefully observed for many years, slowly dissolving into hues of grey. And the entire time she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to do it, if she should be doing it. She was watching herself from a distance, observing the changes, the slow progression towards a new normal. But she was not quite ready to admit to it, to accept the person she was becoming. A person who was stepping into the spotlight, was possibly entering into an unholy alliance with the security services, and who - apparently - was inviting former PPOs into her bed.

Who’d done so in a public place, with very little protection from being overheard, with two of her coworkers nearby. It felt very much like a culmination of the past few months; another decision where she’d made a choice she would never have considered before.

The idea of having David Budd in her bed was an enticing one. The idea of being tarred and feathered for an inappropriate affair with a police officer however, was not. None of this fit into her agenda. She didn’t need David for anything. He wasn’t going to help her reach her goal, he wasn’t going to be useful to her regarding her career at all. No - David was something she wanted, for herself, for the first time in many years. A luxury. A risk she was seemingly about to take, for no valid reason.

Julia still went downstairs just after the nine o clock news to unlock the backdoor - another reckless step in a sequence of reckless decisions. And yet she could not bring herself to put an end to the absurd situation, cancel on David and forget about it all.

She could not stop thinking about the way his eyes had travelled down the entire length of her body, had thought of little else since their earlier encounter. Julia really wanted to know what his hands would feel like, wanted to see what he could do with them. Wanted to see what he’d let _her_ do. As she poured herself a second glass of wine, stood in her dimly lit kitchen, she debated with herself, a last attempt at diverting the course her evening seemed to be taking.

There was also the matter of his motives to consider. Julia had not gotten the impression that he particularly liked her, so this turn of events was rather unexpected. While their relationship had been warming up in the days before his reassignment, she’d never imagined that he’d have any actual interest in her. Although ultimately, it didn't matter what his motives were, as long as he wanted to be where she wanted him to be - naked, in her bed, putting his hands and various other parts of his body to good use.

The knock on her door came just after 10, and she waited a few seconds before walking over and opening it - then stopped in surprise at the sight that greeted her.

He looked different out of his suit. Somehow she’d never imagined David Budd in anything else, had never considered that he possessed any other items of clothing. She could recall countless mornings she’d opened the door to David in full work attire, his tie neatly ironed, his hair carefully styled, indifferent mask firmly in place. This new version - the dark jeans, the leather jacket, the slightly messy hair, the expression on his face - all of it was foreign to her, an entirely new concept. _Intriguing_. 

Julia closed the door behind him, leaned back against it and let her head rest against the dark wood, taking him in, taking a moment to process. Neither of them spoke - there was no need for words, no need to pretend he was there for any other reason than the one they both knew about. She understood the silent greeting of his eyes regardless, a brief _Hello, here I am_ , as they found hers and he stepped towards her, approaching her confidently and purposefully, never breaking their gaze. He came closer than he’d ever been to her before, until she could smell the leather of his jacket and feel the heat emanating from his body and his presence filled her brain. 

He was crowding her a little, and she tilted her head, studying him. There’d always been something animalistic, slightly menacing about him, and tonight it was out in full force. His mouth was only inches from hers now, and she found her eyes fluttering closed and her own mouth open slightly in anticipation. He stopped, just short of her lips, then raised his arm and took the wine glass from her hand to take a large sip, emptying it completely. She watched his throat, watched as he swallowed the liquid down in one big gulp, and was struck by an overwhelming need to have this man inside of her, to have him above her, beneath her, all around her. His large fingers closed around hers when he returned the glass to her hand, the touch of his skin against hers intoxicating, an entirely new but welcome sensation. Julia was acutely aware that he’d never touched her before, that just this brief contact, with the implied promise of more, was leaving her breathless. 

“I’m going to need more wine for this,” she said and moved past him, resisting the urge to just drop the wine glass to the floor, then mold her entire body to his, pressing herself to him as tightly as she could. She could hear him follow her, track her all the way into the kitchen, a big animal hunting a smaller prey. And perhaps she was - prey that he’d been hunting for weeks, for months even. Perhaps he’d always known this was how it was all going to end eventually.

The room looked the same as it had a mere two minutes earlier - the marbled kitchen island in the middle half lit, the steel of the sink still reflecting the white backboards, the wine bottle on top of the island in the exact spot where she had left it. And yet, everything was different. The man behind her had been in this very room dozens of times, but he might as well never have been there before, so stark was the contrast. He wasn’t there to sweep the kitchen for dangers. He _was_ the danger. 

Sergeant Budd, the man assigned to protect her, seemed to be a completely different person to _David_ , the man who’d just appeared at her door in a leather jacket and black jeans. A strange creature in this new alien world that she was still trying to make sense of.

She uncorked the wine bottle, poured a decent amount of red liquid into the glass and then put the cork back in. She could sense him hovering silently behind her, a threatening, looming presence coming closer, until he was almost touching her. His arms appeared at either side of her, his hands on the counter, then she felt the warm air of his breath against her neck.

“Who knows I’m here?” he growled into her ear, his voice sounding very different to what she was used to. Lower, more personal, a deep tone that vibrated through her body, extending to the very tips of her toes.

She swallowed. “Nobody,” she replied, feeling lightheaded already. 

“I can do whatever I want to you?” he whispered, his lips almost touching her skin.

It was a threat and a promise and a question all wrapped into one. A thrill shot down her spine, settled into her stomach. He was asking for permission, and she could either give it and see where it would take them, or refuse and put an end to the whole absurd situation. She hesitated briefly, took a moment - but she knew the decision had already been made hours earlier in a corridor full of white walls and glass partitions. 

“Yes.” she heard herself say.

There was a pause, then he reached past her for the wine glass. “You’ll need this,” he said, and lifted it up towards her mouth. She took it without protesting and put it up against her lips. His hand softly settled against her throat, feeling her swallow the deep red liquid in large gulps.

When she’d finished with the glass, David wound his arms around her waist, pulling her back into him and pressing his entire body flush against hers. She could hear the leather of his jacket creak, feel the already growing bulge between his legs pushing insistently against her bottom, hard and warm. A silent preview of what was about to come, what she had to look forward to. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, then trailed it down her neck. She shivered, already intoxicated being enveloped by him like this and leaned back against him, placing her hands on top of his around her middle. 

David stopped immediately, taking hold of both her wrists. “No touching,” he said, his breath hot against her ear, and firmly placed both her hands back on the kitchen counter. “No turning around.” he added, and emphasized it by putting his own hands on top of hers, effectively trapping her.

He wasn’t just asking for permission, he was asking for _control_. For her to completely give herself over, letting him call the shots - letting him do whatever he wanted. She bit her lip, arousal and self preservation fighting with each other, briefly unsure which path to take. 

She’d invited him over, determined the location and the time of their encounter, and now that he was here she _wanted_ him. Badly. If this was how he wanted _her_ , that’s how it was going to be.

“All right.” she heard herself say, equal measures nervous and excited, the wine flowing through her body already decreasing her inhibitions. 

Julia heard his breath hitch briefly behind her and felt his hips cant into hers, an involuntary reaction that told her he hadn’t been quite sure, hadn’t known for certain she’d accept his proposal. She fixed her hands on top of the counter, spread her arms out a bit further for support and firmly planted her feet on the ground, preparing herself for whatever the dangerous, animalistic, intriguing man behind her had planned for her. 

She was ready. She was _willing_. 

There was a gust of air, a brief loss of warmth, and the sound of his jacket hitting the floor. David wrapped his arms around her waist again, pressed into her - and this time she could feel the outline of his chest against her back through the thin cotton shirt, feel the flexing muscles of his bare arms firm against her stomach, smell the scent of his aftershave, no longer masked by the leather of his jacket.

His mouth landed on her neck, softly kissing her there before his tongue snuck out and _licked_ her skin. Her body’s response was immediate, blood rushing to the juncture between her legs, a shudder going through her at the sensation. David made a surprised sound behind her, apparently startled by the effect he had on her. He used his mouth on her neck again, scraped his teeth along her skin, and she heard him groan lowly when her reaction was the same and she all but _melted_ into him, pushing back against him, trying to feel as much of him as possible.

His hands started roaming her body, and _oh_ , they were not shy. They pulled her shirt out of her trousers, immediately slid underneath, searching for naked skin. They made no secret out of how much they wanted to touch her, open palms skating along her skin, fingers probing her flesh, dipping into the hollow of her waist. Molded themselves to her curves, grabbed handfuls of her flesh.

She liked being touched like this, his hands confident and demanding, never hesitating, moving in big, long strokes. They were clearly aware that they were allowed to touch her anywhere and everywhere - that she’d explicitly permitted it, had almost _asked_ for it. 

His fingers felt for the buttons on the front of her top, undid them one by one. David allowed her to lift her arms so he could pull the shirt off them, but she immediately returned them to the counter in front of her after. She was rewarded with his mouth on her neck again, a lick of his tongue before he started sucking on a piece of her skin. Julia hissed in a breath, an entirely involuntary reaction, and tilted her head to provide better access, inviting him to do it again.

The silence between them now, it was not uncomfortable. The only audible sounds were the quiet buzz of the fridge, providing a steady background, and the low noises they were making as he explored her body with his hands and his mouth.

He was building her up, building the heat within her body, her skin tingling pleasantly wherever he touched her, wetness pooling between her legs. The sensation of her own growing arousal was starting to overwhelm her, was beginning to make her feel fuzzy and dazed as she concentrated on the man behind her touching and tasting her. 

David’s palms started wandering up her stomach, his thumbs tracing the underside of her bra, his fingers drawing slow circles on the skin of her stomach. She felt his hands slide along the fabric, following it to the center of her back, where he opened the small hook and then helped her discard the garment. She sighed in pleasure as her breasts hung heavy, her nipples already hard, so ready for him, waiting for him to claim them. 

His hands came to rest at her lower back, stroking the skin there, then his mouth joined his hands and he started slowly travelling upwards, ignoring the tingling skin around her front that was screaming for his touch.

David kissed and licked up her entire back, bit the ridges of her spine, his palms gliding ahead of his lips, letting her know where he was going next. His mouth was hot against her skin, his hands large and firm, his hair tickling her every now and then. Her kitchen faded into the background as everything in her focused on the feeling of his tongue and his teeth and his fingers stroking her skin, as she began to pant in earnest, the heat between her legs slowly becoming unbearably urgent and overwhelming.

When David arrived at her neck, he swiped her hair to the side and kissed her right there, then gave her a sharp and hard bite to finish off, a bite that she could feel resonate throughout the entire length of her body, rubbing her thighs together slowly, trying to abate the building need between them.

Large palms finally moved to her breasts, covered both of them in one smooth movement, started to massage her gently. She moaned, pushed herself against those hands, looked down to see his fingers tweaking a nipple, tugging slightly. He spent long minutes caressing her, while his tongue was busy licking behind her earlobe, drawing small circles against her skin.

Everything was going too slow, was taking too long - she was ready for him already, wanted him naked, wanted him inside of her. Wanted to finally _kiss_ him. She thought of turning around, breaking the rules, convincing him to stop teasing her - but she’d agreed to his conditions and part of her did want to see how he was going to continue - and she was worried he’d stop if she violated their agreement.

David’s hands finally moved lower, excruciatingly slowly, and came to rest at the top of her trousers. She could feel them, hot against her bare skin, and pressed herself against them, urging him on. He took the hint and deliberately, carefully, unbuttoned the top button of her slacks and felt for the zip, pulling it down. 

His hands tugged at the fabric of her trousers, sliding it down her legs, past her knees and her ankles and her feet, one leg at a time. Warm fingers caressed the soft skin at the back of her calves, then the palms of his hands molded to her legs and slid upwards, the heat of them getting closer and close to her core. David palmed her arse, his hands grabbing a handful of each side, spreading them apart, opening them to himself. He pressed himself against them, the hard length in his jeans resting between her cheeks. She hissed in a breath at the sensation, felt more heat pooling between her legs, and pushed back against him, unable to remain still. David responded with a few sharp thrusts of his hips, ground himself into her, letting her know that _yes_ , eventually they’d get there. He was taking his damn time about it and Julia found herself desperately wishing the multiple layers of clothing still between them were gone already.

She lost track of time, track of where he was, where she was, and found her breath catching when she felt his naked chest against her back. He was so close, the soft hair of his chest sliding against her skin, his heat seeping into her bones, warming her through and through. She could feel her own wetness, could feel how ready she was, the satin fabric between her thighs already soaked through. 

His hands landed on her hips, his thumbs stroking her hip bones, his fingers tracing the edge of her underwear, slowly travelling inwards. One hand dove into her knickers, his palm skating down confidently, a finger extending to slip between her wet folds gently. Her hips jolted forward, against that finger, entirely outside her control, searching for more contact, more pressure. She let her head fall back with a groan, dropped it on to his shoulder, his mouth now right at her cheek, so that she could kiss him if she only turned a little further. 

He knew it too, his mouth retreating slightly, giving her earlobe a sharp little bite, a small punishment for her forwardness, for breaking his rules. She focused on the finger inside of her instead, looked down at where his arm disappeared in her underwear, his hand bulging the fabric, stretching it every time he slid in and out of her. Julia ground herself against it, trying to get _more_ , _harder_ , _deeper_ , anything that’d help release the tension between her thighs.

David chuckled, the vibration of his laugh an unexpected sensation against the skin of her neck, and withdrew his finger. He dragged her underwear down her legs and swiftly removed it, the fabric darkened in spots where she’d soaked through it. He wedged a knee between her thighs, gently pushed her legs apart, and she happily moved them, biting her lip in anticipation.

His hands dipped into the hollow of her waist, pulling at her, moving her hips away from the counter until she was bent over properly, her elbows on the counter and her palms flat against the marbled stone. He was laying her out, getting her ready, positioning her just as he liked. Was probably staring at her arse right now, planning how he was going to take her. A tremor of pleasure ran through her body, of anticipation, of knowing exactly what was going to come next.

She heard the sound of his zipper, slowly being undone, tooth by tooth, the noise almost obscenely loud in her kitchen, louder than the quiet buzz of the fridge. She wanted to see, so badly, what he was doing behind her, wanted to see him free the massive bulge between his legs, wanted to touch him and run her fingers along him, wrap her hand around him. Wanted to get a _taste_. She screwed her eyes shut and took deep breaths, forcing herself to remain still, to not turn, to not reach out for him. 

Julia jumped when, instead of what she was expecting, she felt his mouth on the inside of her leg. His hands slid around the front of her thighs, his palms flattening against her skin, holding her in place against him. Wet and warm, his tongue slid upwards, then moved past her core. A light bite to each buttock followed next, then he started to place small kisses at the place where her leg joined her body, licked her outer folds, pressed his tongue to the skin there. His mouth made its way around her center, never getting close to it, endlessly teasing. 

Julia could feel herself shaking with need, desperate for him to touch her where she wanted him most. Small waves of pleasure coursed through her at every move of his mouth, but the place between her legs was aching for him, the overwhelming need to have him inside of her growing stronger with every stroke of his tongue. She reached out to hold on to something, anything, her hands grasping at the hard stone beneath, her fingers digging into it. The marble filled her entire vision and she tried to focus on the pattern of it, tried following the swirling grey veins interwoven with the white underground, anything to keep herself sane and in control, to not beg this man behind her to do unspeakable things to her.

She chanced a glance down and gasped at the sight - a sight that sent an entirely new flash of arousal down to her center. David was kneeling between her legs, his face obscured to her view by her own body, but she could see that he had undone his zipper and his jeans were halfway tugged down. The bulge inside his boxers was spilling out of his trousers, and she could just make out the contours of him, a thick and hard length, constricted by the elastic fabric of his underwear. She whimpered, desperate to have him inside of her, swallowed hard as she felt her mouth water in expectation.

“David,” she finally blurted out, his name a quiet plea on her lips.

He responded immediately, pressing his nose between her folds, inhaling deeply; a big, wild animal getting the scent of its mate. He nuzzled against her, licked a path along the entire length of her, then sucked on her folds. She moaned and tried to rock against him, against the wet and warm sensation between her legs, but he had her hips firmly gripped and would not allow her to move. 

Julia watched his neck move, caught sight of the end of his tongue as it slid against her, felt it dip inside her, curling slowly and deliberately. She could not take her eyes off him, of the hard length twitching between his legs, of the muscles of his throat moving as he sucked on her, of his large hands wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place. He started rhythmically pushing his tongue inside of her, and the pleasure was so overwhelming she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, felt them flutter close and let her head fall back. He was making her _feel_ like a wild animal, made her blood roar in her ears, drew sounds from her that she hadn’t heard in years - sounds of need and want that she didn’t think herself capable of anymore.

She moaned in disappointment when he stopped and pulled away, leaving her rocking her hips into thin air frantically, needing friction, needing touch.

Julia heard him move behind her, focused every fibre of her being at her back, tried to use her ears to tell what he was doing. Heard the telltale rustling of clothes, the sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor. _His jeans_ . Heard the barely audible snap of an elastic band, then felt him bending down. _His boxers_.

Her kitchen had never witnessed anything like this, an alien scene from another planet, far beyond the world she usually inhabited. She could see herself, fully nude, bent over the island in the middle, ready and waiting for the man behind her. Letting him control the situation, letting him lead. And she wanted it, she _needed_ it, didn’t care about anything but him sliding into her, burying himself deep and then making her fall apart. Had reached the point of no return minutes ago and knew without a doubt that nothing was going to stop her. She was going to let this man do things to her, do whatever he wanted.

Julia heard the low sound of something plastic being ripped and out of the corner of her eye, detected something small and golden fluttering to the floor. She placed her hands firmly on the marble surface in front of her, spread her legs just a little bit further and then lifted the lower half of her body towards the man behind her - an obvious invitation, a silent _take me, now_. 

David made a strangled noise behind her, and then his hands were on her hips and his tip was pressing against her folds, parting them. He rubbed himself between them, nudging her open, then started pushing into her. He went slowly, inch by inch, stretching her, filling her up, her mouth opening, letting a gasp out at the absolutely incredible sensation. He was big, hot and hard. _So good_. She’d not felt anything like it in years. 

When the soft hair of his thighs met the back of her legs she sighed, enjoying the way he was stretching her so perfectly, momentarily relieved they’d finally gotten to this point. She heard him groan behind her, a small, but detectable sound, then he started moving, a steady, well paced rhythm, rocking the two of them back and forth.

David bent down, his mouth by her ear. “Talk to me _,_ “ he ground out, hastily spoken between thrusts.

“Deeper,” she gasped, and he immediately complied, pressing into her.

She could hear his small intake of breath before every thrust as he continued, his grip tightening around her hips, the muscles of his thighs firm against her arse.

“Harder,” she added a short while later, and he gave a confirmatory grunt, then increased the power behind his next thrust.

Between half closed eyes she detected movement and turned her head slightly, discovering that their joint bodies were throwing shadows against the walls in the soft light of the room. They clung to the edges of her kitchen counters, climbed up the white tiles above - dark, blurred shapes, unsharp, but distinctive enough to be recognizable. They did look like rutting animals, she thought, the larger outline of him bent above her, holding on to her, pushing himself into her with every thrust. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and sex, the room filled with the noise of their bodies meeting repeatedly and the sound of their heavy breathing.

Julia tilted her head, arched her back and watched as her own shadow followed her, copying the movement. She could see the place where they were joined now, the outline of the hard and thick length that was moving in and out of her becoming visible between thrusts. She watched it disappear into her, watched the larger shape behind hers speed up and the hands on her hips move to her waist, holding on tight.

It wasn’t long until she was close, writhing against him, pushing backwards, just needing that little bit of extra friction around the front. She forgot all about his instructions and slid her hand off the kitchen island, aiming for her center, aiming to help herself along. David caught her wrist easily, grunted “ _No_ ” into her ear, and promptly returned her hand to the counter.

Julia whimpered in frustration, _so close now_ , desperate for release. David wrapped both arms around her, pressed himself to her back, one hand on her breast, the other slipping down between her legs, his mouth biting at her shoulder. Her entire body was straining towards the man behind her, above her, wrapped around her. Every nerve ending was concentrated on him as he claimed her with his mouth and his hands and his hips. His palm finally reached her center, rubbing against her where she needed it most, following the rhythm of his thrusts.

Julia moaned and then exploded, the place between her legs throbbing violently as she felt her entire body dissolve into pleasure, tremors travelling through her as she shook from head to toe. David kept going with brief, shallow thrusts, letting her ride it out, following the rhythm of her body. He kissed her sweaty back, patiently waited for her to calm down, for the pulsing between her legs to subside. 

It took a while to come back down, for her to regain her senses and the hazy fog of pleasure to lift. When she was ready, she pushed back against him, sliding along his length. David groaned behind her in response and she felt him shudder, felt his fingers press into her hips. She realised with a jolt that he was not as in control as he wanted to be, as she’d thought he was. Wondered if watching and feeling her come around him had been more than he could handle.

She couldn’t see him, but she could _sense_ him behind her. Could sense him trying to contain his own lust, trying to regain command over his body. She could almost see his mouth, closed tightly, his jaw clenched. Beads of sweat collecting against his throat and his collarbone and his chest. The bulging muscles of his arms, as he held on to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. The front of his thighs, damp with sweat, tense and tight every time she pushed back into him. His naked feet, firmly planted on the floor, his toes curling against the cold tiles beneath.

Julia moved back again, slid herself along his hard length, all the way until she met his thighs. Pulled herself forward, then did it again. 

“Julia,” he said hoarsely, warning in his voice, his hands tightening around her hips. 

She smiled, sensing victory. Circled her hips, pushed herself away from the counter and into him. Did it again. Started a rhythm. Listened to the strangled noises he was making, could feel his fingers digging into her skin, his entire body tensing up in restraint. 

He growled behind her, a low, vibrating sound coming from somewhere deep within, a last warning she didn’t heed. His body responded to each of her movements with a small jerk, David still holding himself back, his breathing shallow, not quite believing what she was offering. 

She wanted _more_. She drove herself backward, let him go deep, showed him what she wanted him to do, what she could _take_. She felt the moment he lost it, felt his hips shove against her in a mighty thrust, sliding deep within, pushing her entire body forward, her hands skating along the marble. She groaned in pleasure, at the feeling of him so far inside of her, felt her own arousal rekindle in response to his.

She could feel him give into the lust, into the _need_ , the response of his body a silent admission. She could feel it in his hips, in his hands, in his fingers. The way he wanted her, the lust behind each single touch and move and plunge, the primal urge to get inside of her and bury himself deep. The knowledge that she’d done this, that she’d made this stoic, quiet, surly man behind her lose control and give into his most basic instincts, his needs, was all it took to build an entire new wave of arousal within her.

Julia steadied herself against the counter, met him halfway, thrust for thrust, listened to him lose control as he started pushing into her violently, his breath coming in short gasps. 

“Ok?” he grunted out, and she wanted to laugh - more than okay.

“Y-e-e-s,” she managed to respond between moans, her own voice punctuated by the staccato of his thrusts. 

David bent over her, his chest slick with sweat as he pressed it against her back, his hands finding her own on the counter, fingers sliding between hers, his open mouth hot against her naked shoulder.

Julia watched as the shadows on the wall merged into one shape, a big blurred outline moving together rhythmically, to a beat as ancient as time as primal instinct took over. A loud moan was escaping her mouth at every single one of his thrusts now, completely out with her control, as he went hard and deep with every push of his hips, hitting every spot she’d wanted him to hit. 

Julia could feel the telltale tightening within her, the coil of anticipation in her stomach ready to unfurl, David moving fast and rough inside of her, their bodies loudly meeting over and over again. She came with a sharp cry, her entire body shaking forcefully, white hot heat spreading from her center through her limbs, along her arms and legs all the way to the tips of her fingers and the top of her head. David followed her, seconds later, a few last, frantic thrusts into her, grunting against her shoulder before he groaned loudly as his own orgasm hit and he shuddered violently above her.

He collapsed over her, their hands still intertwined on the counter, pressing his forehead against her naked back. The gasps of his breath came in quick succession against her sensitive skin, her own heart beating at a million times an hour. 

They stayed like that for minutes, their breathing steadying, their heartbeats gradually slowing, the sweat between their bodies starting to dry. She shivered when he finally slid out of her, hot and soft, and immediately mourned the loss of their physical connection.

David pressed a kiss to her sweaty neck and pulled back a little. “Don’t move,” he said and she laughed, a small, breathless sound, foreign to her own ears.

She couldn’t move if she wanted to, the boneless feeling after a thoroughly satisfying sexual experience slowly settling over her, making her limbs heavy and her mind drowsy. Julia wasn’t sure how her legs were still carrying her, how her arms were still holding her up, wasn’t quite sure how she was even capable of breathing. She rested her forehead against the cool marble between her arms, tried to steady herself against it, attempted to regain her composure.

She could hear David move around behind her, but she had no energy to even wonder what he was doing. When she felt his hand pulling on her foot, she lifted it without complaint, and found the soft fabric of her knickers pooling around her ankles. He pulled them up until they were back around her hips, tugging them carefully into place. Her trousers followed next, then her bra, as he slowly and diligently dressed her piece by piece. He lifted her limp arms, one after the other, to slide them into the sleeves of her shirt, then drew the open halves closed around her front.

His hands landed on her waist, and he pulled at her, turned her around until - at last - they came face to face. Julia caught a glimpse of messy hair, of intensely blue eyes approaching, then his mouth covered hers and her eyes closed immediately at the pleasure.

 _Finally_ , was all she could think before she became lost in the heady sensation of his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him into her, delighted that she could now finally touch him back and pressed herself against the hard outline of his chest.

David bit her lower lip, sucked it into his mouth, then ran his tongue along it. She felt her own mouth open in response, could not have stopped it if she’d tried to, her body already familiar with giving into him. His tongue slid between her lips, met her own, and her knees buckled beneath her, too weak to hold her up any longer. 

He caught her easily, his arms wrapped tightly around her, lifted her onto the kitchen counter and stepped between her legs to continue what he’d started.

David kissed her for long minutes, explored her mouth with his tongue and his teeth and his lips, let her kiss him back, until they were both flushed and panting. They pulled apart, and she realised belatedly that he’d not only dressed her, but was fully clothed himself, with the exception of his leather jacket, still lying on the floor behind him.

David’s fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, slowly fastening them one by one, working his way up from the bottom. She used the opportunity to run her hands along his naked arms, up to the sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling the soft hair underneath her fingers, tracing the hard outlines of his muscles. She pressed her palms to his biceps, wrapped her fingers around, tried to see how much of them she could grip, and remembered the feeling of them embracing her so tightly. He let her continue for a few moments, his thumbs stroking the top of her thighs, his chest moving in front of her eyes with the regular inhale and exhale of his breaths. 

His hand moved to her neck and pulled her closer, then his nose brushed her cheek as he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to hers again. This time the kiss was much softer, his teeth tugging at her bottom lip gently, his tongue slow to enter her mouth. She sighed against him, felt warmth spreading through her stomach, let her shaky hands rest against his chest, slowly let them wander up to his shoulders.

David gave her one last, brief peck on the lips, then moved out from between her legs. He stepped away, the heat of his body slowly dissolving, and bent to pick up his leather jacket before turning to her.

“Call me … if you want to do this again,” he said.

She tilted her head in surprise, regarded him.

“And if I don’t?”

David watched her for a moment, searching her eyes, then lowered his head, giving her a nod of assent, of understanding. “Nobody will ever hear anything about this from me,” he responded.

It was her turn to nod, sending him a brief, grateful smile. 

He gave her one last look, his eyes travelling down her entire length slowly, lingering a little, as if he was memorizing the scene so he could recall it later. He met her gaze, the smallest hint of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, then turned and disappeared around the corner.

Julia heard her front door open, then close, and exhaled deeply, leaning back on her hands. Her eyes landed on the wine glass next to her, placed there earlier and forgotten about, and she reached for the bottle to pour herself another round. Her hand shook as she lifted the bottle, her arm heavy, her entire body feeling tired and relaxed, now that the remaining adrenaline from their encounter was slowly fading. Even holding up the wine glass to her mouth to take a sip felt like a chore, and eventually Julia just gave into the fatigue and found herself laying back on her kitchen island, her legs dangling off the edge, the top of her head just reaching the other side.

The marble felt cool and inviting against her back, a stark contrast to the scorching heat of the body that had been pressed against her only a short while ago. She sighed and closed her eyes for a minute, let her entire body go limp, as she waited for the inevitable fallout of her evening to set in - the worry about what she’d done, the anger at herself, the _regret_.

It didn’t come. 

In fact, she realised after a while, it wasn’t _going_ to come. She’d done something wildly inappropriate, had broken numerous rules, had gone against every standard she usually looked to uphold. And admittedly, she’d _liked_ it. 

Although she’d known David Budd had no business being in her flat in any private capacity, had known that, should anybody find out, she’d be in trouble - she’d still gone ahead with it.

She’d taken a risk, embraced the danger, followed her instincts - and she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. More than she’d wanted, she thought, remembering the incredible feeling of two explosive orgasms coursing through her body. 

Perhaps it was time to admit that this new world wasn’t all bad. Perhaps she was allowed to want things, was allowed to reach for them, to fight for them. Perhaps it was all right to take risks, to step out of her comfort zone, if the results were worth it.

And perhaps it was time to accept that she was starting to like all of it - both her new reality and the person she was slowly becoming. A woman with ambition, with goals, with plans. Who would not let anybody stand in her way, who’d do whatever it took to get to where she wanted to be. A woman who was not only capable of change herself, but wanted to bring about change for other people too - the entire country, if they let her. 

Julia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her kitchen, focused on the bright reflection the wine glass was throwing against the white paint. She’d cultivated power and influence as a byproduct of her hard work over the past few years - although this was not why she’d taken the job, it was going to be useful now. She’d already seen people accept the power she had, bend to her will, and fall in line behind her over the past few months. She knew she had everything she needed to make a serious play for number ten - all she had to do was revisit the tentative arrangements she’d made in the past few months, come up with a proper plan of action and carry it out. 

Just as she’d formed a plan earlier in the day - a plan that had culminated in a very attractive, naked man pressing her against the exact kitchen island she was currently lounging on. 

_Call me_ , he’d said before leaving, and she’d been surprised. She’d only ever meant this to be a one night stand, a single evening where she forgot about everything and just let herself go. But David - David seemed to think differently.

In fact, she began to understand, he must be thinking _very_ differently. 

She frowned, played back the events of the evening, then realised - he’d treated this night as an _audition_. He’d come to show her what he could do for her, what he could do _to_ her. How he could make her feel. All with one single goal in mind: To do it again. 

It was David Budd letting her know what he was capable of, what he had to offer. 

More than that, he’d also demonstrated his commitment to _discretion_. Had made it obvious that he knew how much she valued it. Julia propped herself up on her elbows, surveyed the scene. The kitchen counters, gleaming and bare, save for her own cooking equipment. The tiled floor, clean and empty, no clothing scattered around it, as could have been expected.The center island she was sitting on, none the wiser to his presence. 

When David had closed the door behind him he hadn’t left a single scrap of evidence behind. He’d used protection without her having to ask for it, had cleaned up behind himself and had left her, fully dressed, in the same state he’d found her in. The only indication of what he’d done to her, what she’d let him do, was the pleasant soreness deep between her legs, the slight pulsing she still experienced every now and then.

He’d given her the option to pretend none of it had ever happened. Had made it clear that if that was what she wanted, he was going to keep quiet. And she believed him.

But it _had_ happened, she thought with a small smile - pleased that she’d gone ahead with it, that she hadn’t changed her mind at the last minute. And as much as she’d planned for it to be one single night, never to be repeated - David was obviously hoping for a long-term arrangement. Wanted a permanent invitation into her bed - for as long as she was going to have him. An offer that, she was sure, came with the promise of regular orgasms and adventurous nights featuring one very talented man between her legs. She bit her lip, considered it.

Perhaps in this new reality that she was beginning to live in, there was room for a prolonged affair with a man who was shockingly unsuitable and ten years her junior - but who could make her forget her surroundings, make the blood roar in her ears and make her shudder with pleasure. 

She’d have to think about it.

Julia sat up, peered over the side of her kitchen island, judging the distance down. Then she gave herself a little push, jumped off the edge - and landed safely, feet first, on the floor of her new world.


End file.
